Not So Magical Medicine
by ComicalEpiphanies
Summary: Harry Potter disappears six months after the final battle and reappears as Healer James Evans, M.D. Years later, his friends decide it's time for Harry to snap out of it. HP/GW and hints of HG/DM. Slight AU. Couple of minor edits posted 11/5/09.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I will only say this once: if I owned it, why is it a fanfic? **

**A/N: This story is based on the challenge posted by Ptronille some time ago. It is all written, but I will be spreading out the posting. My wonderful beta, girlwithoutfear, is holding out on me for the time being, so there might be some corrections at a later date. I did my best and Ptronille did proof-read, so it shouldn't be too bad. **

**This is dedicated to Ptronille. I hope it meets your satisfaction. As far as you readers, I will never beg for reviews, but that doesn't mean I don't want them. I guess I just broke my promise. Okay, that's the only time I will ask. There, does that fix it?**

** Now, please begin!**

* * *

Not-So-Magical Medicine

Prologue:

Harry James Potter surveyed the death in front of him. He watched as the coffin of his best friend was lowered slowly into a hole six feet deep. The priest's mouth moved, forming silent words.

The young man stayed behind after all the other mourners had left, staring at the blinding, white tombstone. Then he disappeared.

Six months later, James Evans enrolled in Healer's training. Two years later he graduated top of his class. The next day he was gone.

Four years later he resurfaced as the youngest head of cardiology in the history of St. Michael's and one of the best healers St. Mungo's has ever seen.

* * *

Chapter One

_St. Michael's Hospital, five years later_:

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, Hermione, I'm fine." He signed the file a nurse had just handed him, nodding his head slightly in greeting, and shifted his cell to the other ear. "I've got to go…Yeah, see you then." He snapped the phone shut.

"She still trying to set you up?"

Harry turned to face the slightly tubby, distinctly Scottish, oncologist and sighed. "Unfortunately."

Nicholas McLeod smiled boyishly. "Who's the victim this time?"

Harry started walking, his friend following. "Some girl. Does it matter?"

"Of course! So are you going?"

Harry stopped in his tracks and looked at the fellow doctor. "Haven't you got a prostate exam to do or something?"

"Biopsy, actually, but not for twenty minutes," Nick replied, his smile widening.

"Well, I have work to do." Harry waved a little goodbye and turned into his office.

He was about to check his email when his pager went off. He glanced at it and hurried to the OR.

* * *

_The café across the street, later that day_:

Hermione Granger was about to give up waiting for her best friend, when he appeared.

"About time. I thought you'd forgotten," she commented as soon as he'd sat down.

Harry shook his head. "Emergency. Couldn't get away without killing the guy."

"Will he live?" Hermione asked, gesturing for a waiter.

Harry sighed. "He's critical. I had to use a little," he coughed lightly, "to get him that far."

Hermione nodded, understanding. After a few minutes spent perusing the menu, she said, "So did you think about my offer?"

"Which was that?" Harry replied absently, nose still buried in the menu.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "She's great, I promise. Pretty, interesting personality."

"'Mione!" Harry exclaimed, "Will you stop trying to play matchmaker? I don't want to go out!"

"No, I won't. And you're just making excuses."

"What about you? When was the last time you went on a date?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again. "I go on dates!" she finally said, a little too defensively.

"When?"

The witch looked affronted. "This is not about me. We're talking about you."

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. I'll start dating again when you do."

Hermione looked at her best friend skeptically. "You'll go with whomever I choose?"

Harry thought about it for a second. "If you go with the guy I set you up with."

Hermione smiled. "Deal."

"Deal."

The two friends ate their lunch in the silence that usually follows a deal until Hermione broke it. "Tomorrow's Mungo's, right?"

* * *

_St. Mungo's, the next day_:

Draco Malfoy had been friends with Harry Potter since the end of the war. In the beginning, it had been a bit shaky – they had been enemies throughout their Hogwarts career, after all – but since graduating from healer training and completing their apprenticeships, it had fortified. In fact, Draco was one of only two people (not including Harry himself) who knew James Evans' real name.

Draco looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. As usual, his partner was late. He went to his personal store of potions and pulled out a vial containing a milky, yellow liquid. A second later Harry Potter, otherwise known as James Evans, came barreling into the dark curses ward. Without a word, Draco tossed him the vial.

"Thank Merlin," Harry exclaimed as soon as he'd downed the murky contents.

Draco sat down lightly. "Long night?"

Harry nodded, falling heavily into his chair. "Hard surgery."

"I still don't get why you bother," Draco commented quietly.

"Doing what?"

Draco looked up from his paperwork. "Being a butcher – or whatever," he amended, seeing Harry flick his wand warningly, "for muggles."

Harry shrugged. "I'm a doctor, a good one at that, and you're just jealous that I save more lives than you." He didn't bother adding that he just liked being one. It was oddly calming in the OR. He felt human there, normal and trusted, not because he had a scar on his forehead, but for his skill.

"Why would I be jealous of a guy who _sews _people up with, what is it? A needle and thread?" Draco shuddered dramatically at the thought.

"We use staples now."

"Much better."

Harry was about to send a mild hex towards his partner when a silver flamingo patronus appeared and said in a high, female voice, "Code seven. Now."

The two healers sprang up. Code seven was an unforgivable curse.

**

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A/N: Chapter one posted. Expect chapter two sometime soon. Oh and, before anyone comments about the time issues, just remember Harry is a wizard and this is fiction. I know medical training can take anywhere from four years to eight, I just needed to speed things up for the story to make sense. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow! What a response to the first chapter! Thanks. Once again, forgive any spelling and/or grammar mistakes. I'm on my own here. I couldn't sleep and decided that I might as well post chapter two. Just don't assume I'll be as quick next time. **

* * *

Chapter Two

_St. Mungo's, Dark Curses Ward, some hours later_:

"Potions just sent us the new batch of dreamless sleep potion," Draco informed his partner.

Harry looked up, glad for an excuse to look away from the woman he was checking on. She'd come into the unit with some nasty curses that had transfigured her face and hands so badly, the two healers were having a hard time identifying her. "Good, I just gave her the last dose."

Draco walked over to the comatose woman on the bed. "Is she any better?"

Harry shook his head. "And she won't be if we don't find a cure soon."

The two healers stared at their patient in silent contemplation. Finally Draco asked, "Why do we do it?"

"What?"

"After what we saw in the war, what we did, how can we still stand to be around all this?" Draco waved his hand around the wing.

Harry thought about it. After a few more minutes, he said, "Maybe it's because of it."

"Hmm," Draco replied thoughtfully. Then he slapped his hands together, effectively breaking the depressing conversation. "So are you seeing anyone?"

Harry forced himself out of his vivid memories to shrug emphatically at his friend. "Why does everyone try and get me to date?"

"Because you need to."

"That's what Hermione said," Harry huffed.

"Then it must be right." Draco's tone was irritated. While he and Harry were best friends, the old animosity between Draco and Hermione remained as strong as it had at Hogwarts.

Harry ignored him. "We made a deal. I'll go out with the girl she chooses if she does the same for me."

Draco snorted. "Granger's still single?"

"She hasn't really dated anyone since…" Harry trailed off, his lips unable to form the words, "since Ron died." He took a deep breath. "Anyway, she's still single."

"So who you going to get?"

"For her? No idea," he started, but stopped and looked at his friend mischievously. "Draco?"

Draco looked up and noticed the look on Harry's face. "No."

* * *

_The Law Offices of Granger and Zambini, same day_:

Hermione startled sharply, nearly pouring her scalding-hot tea all over her neatly written notes, at the sound of a person apparating right in front of her desk.

"Merlin, Ginny!" she cried, "Don't do that! What if I were with a client?"

Ginny Weasley shrugged and flopped into the chair opposite her best friend. "I'd have just said sorry very politely and waited my turn."

"And if they were a muggle?" Hermione questioned sharply, not forgiving her friend that easily.

"Hermione, when was the last time you had a muggle client? You're a wizard lawyer."

Hermione huffed and said, "Was there a reason you scared me half to death?"

"Not really," Ginny replied, glancing around like she'd never seen Hermione's office before. "I just finished my article early and wanted to see if you were up for getting a bite to eat."

Hermione glanced at the pile of paperwork that seemed to be growing exponentially with every passing moment. "I would love to, but I've got a lot to do."

"Oh." Ginny didn't move.

After a few minutes, Hermione asked, "Is there something else?"

"Hmm? No, just Mum wanted to know how Harry's doing. You know how she is. She still has hope that he'll come back one day."

"You know he's not going to," Hermione replied softly.

"He did for you."

"No, I found him." Hermione broke eye contact. "You could do the same."

Ginny stood up. "He left us, not the other way around." A small _pop_ followed her words before Hermione had a chance to reply.

Hermione stared at the chair her best friend had occupied a moment before; her brain paused in thought.

"Herm?"

Hermione jumped at the sound of her law partner knocking on her door. "Yeah, Blaise?"

"Hey, I was just wondering if you wanted me to pick you up something to eat," Blaise Zabini said, walking into his friend's office regally.

"Hmm?" Hermione replied, still staring at the empty chair.

"Food. You." Blaise accented the 'you' by pointing at Hermione. She didn't respond. "Something you want to share?" he asked, realizing that she wasn't listening to him.

Hermione shook her head, but said almost at once, "Do you think she's the one?"

Blaise looked confused. And hungry. "You want to explain that a bit?"

Hermione blushed. "I'm trying to set up a friend," she explained.

"Oh." Blaise paused. "You know she's not my type."

Hermione laughed lightly, sending a mild stinging hex his way. "The whole world doesn't revolve around you, Blaise."

Blaise glanced around him, feigning surprise and rubbing his arm where the hex had hit him. "Really? If not me, who?"

"Me. Now hush, I'm trying to figure out if Ginny's the right girl for the job."

"Ginny's got a job."

"Out!" Hermione exclaimed in mock frustration, pointing to the door. "Get me a sandwich, tomato on rye."

Blaise bowed deeply, only half joking. "Yes, oh-she-who-must-be-obeyed." He closed the door before Hermione could hex him again, laughing heartily.

Hermione sat back down after he left, puzzling the problem. Finally she said, "Yes." And then got back to correcting a brief.

* * *

**A/N: Expect chapter three soon. I predict within the next 48 hours. It all depends on how nice my teachers are going to be tomorrow. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So you know how I said I wasn't going to ask for reviews? I take that back. School and real life is tough and this is not turning out to be my week. I need encouragement. I bring you this new chapter free of charge, 24 hours early, with the hope that you will indulge me with a few words. And Ptronille? I know you said not to post for a couple days, but I've decided to take that as a joke. Unless of course it's not, and then you readers won't be getting chapter four soon... Or maybe I should just ignore Ptronille? **

**So onward brave souls! And please note, I did my best with editing considering I'm functioning on fumes. **

* * *

Chapter Three

_St. Michael's, the next day_:

_Harry was laughing. Sirius and Remus were telling him a story about his father, joking with each other as they did so. Then suddenly their faces cracked, green light shining through. Harry whipped around, only to see two, blood red eyes staring back at him. _

_Harry stumbled back, but tripped. He looked down and curled back when he realized what he'd tripped over. It was Ron. Blood dripped slowly down his white face, pain frozen there for eternity. _

Harry jerked up, a muffled shout bursting its way through his lungs. He was covered in cold sweat and breathing heavily.

"Woo, Mate! What happened?" Nick exclaimed, clearly surprised to find his friend, the all-together-surgeon, sleeping in the doctor's lounge, let alone having a night terror. "You want to talk about something?"

Harry ran his hand over his face, trying to will the terrible dream out of his brain. "No, I'm fine. Just a dream." He stood up, heading to the door.

"Where you going?"

Harry didn't turn around as he said, "To clear my head."

* * *

_St. Michael's, ten minutes later_:

Harry splashed cold water over his face as if trying to wash away the memories of the war. Finally he gave up, dried his face, and walked out of his private bathroom into his office.

He jumped when his eyes landed on Nick, who was sitting at his desk, scratching at what Harry assumed was a muggle magazine.

Nick didn't look up before asking, "What's your full name?"

Harry did a small double take. "Why?"

Nick held up the magazine. "I'm taking the 'how well do you know your best friend' test. Now what's your middle name?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, but answered. "Potter."

The oncologist looked up. "Really?"

"Yeah," Harry lied.

"Doc Pot," he mumbled softly into his shirt, scribbling the name on the glossy surface of the paper. "When were you born?"

Harry hesitated a moment before answering. "The thirty first of July."

"Year?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "1980."

"What city? Or planet," he added quietly as an afterthought.

"Planet?"

Nick nodded solemnly. "Now answer the question."

Harry looked at his friend skeptically. "Godric's Hollow, England."

"Where's that?"

Another eye roll. "England."

"Okay, Mate, don't get fussy on me now," Nick replied, not willing to push his luck. This was more than anyone had ever gotten out of Doctor James Evans in all the time he'd been working at St. Michael's. "Where are your parents?"

Harry's face immediately lost all emotion and he stood up suddenly. "I have to go."

Nick looked surprised. "Where?"

Harry cast around for a good excuse. "To check on my patients."

"But you just did!" Nick didn't want his friend to leave, at least not before he finished the questionnaire.

Harry glared at the Scottish oncologist. "No, I didn't," he said pointedly.

Nick backed down under the doctor's harsh glare. "I guess you didn't."

"Right. I'll see you the day after tomorrow." Harry left the room.

Nick sighed and looked down at the magazine and read the title of the questionnaire again. "'How to tell if your pets like you'."

He sighed. He was running out of good ways to get information.

* * *

_St. Mungo's, the next day_:

"Come on, Draco. I really don't want to go alone," Harry begged as he spelled some bandages onto one of their patients.

Draco cast a diagnostic spell over another patient. This was their morning routine. He read the piece of parchment and said, "O'Henry's responded to the counter-curse well. And I'm not going on a date Granger."

"That's good to know," Harry replied, referring to O'Henry. "Give me one good reason why not."

"What?" Draco looked confused.

"Why you won't go with Hermione. She's more than a match for you in intelligence, independence, and she's really pretty. What's not to like?"

Draco spelled the beds to warn them if there was an emergency and headed into their office, quickly followed by Harry. He cast a mufflieto spell to make sure none of the patients could eavesdrop. "Why don't you date her, if she's all that?" he finally responded.

"That's practically incest!" Harry cried, shuddering slightly at the thought.

Draco was about to reply that they weren't related, when one of the bed charms went off. Both healers snatched their wands, snapping to attention, and all thoughts besides saving their patient gone for the time being.

* * *

Harry got to the bed first. It was the woman who'd come in two days ago, still without a name. Draco had been trying different counter-curses and potions since then, Harry having been at St. Michael's. So far, however, nothing was helping. The deep lacerations and peeling, scabby skin that seemed to resist all forms of magic remained.

Suddenly Harry had an idea. "MDT. Stat.," he commanded.

Draco stopped mid-dash to the cabinet. "What?"

Harry slapped his hand against his head. Wrong hospital. He'd forgotten he was in the wizarding world. "I think she's got some sort of magical leprosy. If I'm right, we can try the muggle cure."

"Will that work?"

"Have you got any other idea?" Harry asked sharply. They were wasting time!

"No, but where are we going to get muggle medicine?"

Harry paused. Draco had a good point. He looked at the woman on the bed. Her heart was beating too fast and the pain was evident, even through her disfigurements. "We'll have to get some, but for now, help me stabilize her."

Draco nodded. He held his wand just above the patient's torso, dragging it slowly through the air, tracing her face and hands. A deep, royal blue light poured from its ebony tip, sinking quickly under her skin. Almost at once the woman's face relaxed and her heart slowed. As soon as she'd calmed down, Harry magicked a dose of dreamless sleep potion directly into her stomach.

The two healers waited until she was asleep before breathing out a long sigh of relief. "Well, that was close," Draco commented.

"Yeah, she'll live another day." Harry didn't sound as relieved as his partner; he was busy reminding himself to check his muggle medical books.

* * *

Sometime later the two healers were in their office, Harry looking through his magic medicine books, hoping beyond hope that he'd find something new, while Draco was filling out discharge papers for one of their luckier patients.

Draco signed his name with a fancy flourish of the quill and banished the documents to the filing office below them. He looked at his watch and started at the time. "Hey James?" He'd finally gotten used to calling his best friend by his alias two years ago, "I'm going to get some lunch. Shall I bring you back something?"

Harry pried himself out of the _Philosophy of Modern Magical Medicine _and looked at his partner. Draco's question had reminded him of the conversation they'd been having before the bed alarm had gone off.

"You know, you never did answer my question," he stated calmly, closing the book lightly.

Draco thought for a second. "Which one?"

"The one about why you refuse to go on a date with Hermione."

"Oh." Draco nodded in recognition. He'd hoped Harry would have forgotten about that by now. "I don't want to."

"You're going to have to do better than that." Harry was not going to let his friend off so easily.

Draco cast around for a good reason. Without thinking, he said, "She's a mugg-" he stopped suddenly, his eyes widening. He was staring down the wand of his best friend.

Harry's face was livid, all humor gone from his face. "Don't you ever use that word again." His voice got harder and quieter with every syllable. "Good people died so that it would never be an excuse again. Do _not _make their sacrifice pointless."

For a second, Draco thought he saw a flash of the lightening bolt scar that had been hidden for so long appear on the man's forehead, but when he dared to look again, it was gone. And so was his partner.

"I guess that means I'm going," he said aloud to the empty room.

* * *

**A/N: While reviews may help to speed up the process to a certain degree, I will be heeding Ptronille's advice somewhat. Until next chapter! **

**Oh, I almost forgot. For those of you lovely people who alerted/favorited/reviewed this story, thanks! It's really heartwarming. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So you know what I realized? I realized that clearly waiting for more reviews wasn't working, so I might as well post. Plus it's Friday. Finally! This week just would not end! Once again, sorry if there are any mistakes. **

* * *

Chapter Four

_James Evans' apartment, a day later_:

Harry leaned forward into his bathroom's mirror. He stared at his face. Even after all the years he'd been James Evans, he still found his reflection unfamiliar.

He poked at his hair, a glamoured auburn color now, shaping it lightly. His eyes were a deep hazel and the recognizable lightening bolt scar was hidden under a combination of glamours and thought-wrinkles. He pulled away from the man in the mirror, confident that all traces of Harry Potter were gone.

Harry rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. He hadn't slept much in the last twenty-four hours. After leaving St. Mungo's abruptly yesterday, he'd changed out of his healer robes and headed to the library at the local medical school to research a solution for the still unidentified woman again. He'd tried to rest around two, but it was a fitful sleep. Finally he'd headed to St. Michael's two hours early.

If he hadn't promised Hermione, he would have canceled everything and gone to bed here and now, but he couldn't. He sighed. He'd just have to stay awake a few hours more.

He had to admit he felt a little guilty about not keeping up his half of the deal, but Hermione would understand. Or, he hoped she would. He was about to head out, planning to walk instead of apparate to the restaurant Hermione had chosen for their dates, when he heard a dull knock on the front door.

Harry opened it to see Draco Malfoy standing there, a sheepish look on his face. The blonde was wearing a dark, silky green shirt with sharp, black slacks.

"Am I too late?" Draco asked, pushing his way past his best friend into the apartment. "You didn't tell me a time."

Harry blinked and shut the door. "Why are you here?"

Draco looked at his partner. "The date? Remember?" He looked at Harry's shirt and pants critically and nodded his approval before adding, "You invited me?"

"But you said no."

Draco shrugged. "I changed my mind. Are we going or not?"

Harry didn't know what to say, so he just left the apartment. Draco shrugged and followed, closing the door with a sharp snap.

* * *

Harry and Draco arrived at the restaurant ten minutes later with the awkwardness that had followed Harry's overreaction in their office on its way to disappearing completely.

"Do you have a reservation?" the pretty hostess asked as soon as they walked in.

Harry opened his mouth to say he wasn't sure, when Draco interrupted. "There they are."

Harry followed Draco's gesture and his eyes fell on the one person he'd hoped he'd never have to see again. Without a word, he turned around, heading swiftly to the door they'd just come through.

Draco, noticing his friend wasn't following and turning around to ask why, saw the half-dash-half-sprint to the door. He latched out to grab Harry's wrist. "What's going on?" he whispered just loud enough for his partner to hear.

"I can't do it." Harry's voice was sadder and more hesitant than Draco had ever heard. He sounded like a toddler trying to convince his parents to let him in their bed. It was a little jarring to see the savior of the wizarding world, conqueror of the darkest wizard in history, cowering over such a simple thing as a date.

Draco almost released his grip in surprise. "Why not?"

Harry forced himself not to look back at the table where Hermione and his date were watching with curious looks on their faces. "I just can't."

Draco glanced at the table again. A strange feeling had arisen in the pit of his stomach when his eyes had landed on Hermione. He had to admit she'd gotten considerably more beautiful since the last time he'd seen her, almost eight years ago now.

"Come on." He dragged Harry into a small alcove, ignoring the astonished expressions of the old couple sitting close by. "Look, Mate. You got me into this, and I made you a promise. Now, I'm not going to break that promise, and you'd better do the same." Harry tried to avoid his friend's eyes, but Draco wouldn't let him. He made his voice sterner, trying to convey as much authority as he could. "We are going to walk to our respective dates and eat a good meal, no matter how much either of us wants to go. Is that clear?"

Harry wished he could say no, but he couldn't. He nodded slowly.

"Good." Draco released his captive, confident that he wouldn't try and run away again. "Let's go."

Harry took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and evenly. He tried to convince himself that he could do it. He looked at the women again.

Ignoring the shame and trepidation that threatened to overthrow him, Harry followed Draco to the one and only Ginny Weasley.

* * *

**A/N: Don't leave Clocks and Ptronille alone! Keep their reviews company by adding your own. There, thinking about my loyal reviewers. And people think I'm self-centered! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Another un-betaed chapter brought to you by Comic Nerd! Hope it's not too painful. **

* * *

Chapter Five

The restaurant A La Carte, thirty minutes later:

Harry avoided Ginny's eyes. Every once in a while he would glance up and be rewarded by a jolt of emotion. They were Ron's eyes. The blue-green gems were taunts; reminding him of the best friend he'd lost. Then his timid gaze would flick upwards and land on her gently curling red hair, the hair of the only family he'd ever had. Harry swallowed hard, forcing the emotion back down his throat.

If Ginny noticed her date's strange reactions, she didn't show it. "So, Hermione tells me you're a healer?"

Harry nodded to his wine glass. "Yes."

"What kind?" Ginny pressed half-heartedly, shooting a what-were-you-thinking look at the witch next to her.

"Dark curses," Harry mumbled. He looked up quickly, only to look down almost at once.

Ginny nodded slowly, searching for another conversation starter. "That must be rewarding."

Harry shrugged solemnly. "It can be."

"Well, I'm a reporter. Quiddich columnist, actually," Ginny said after another awkward pause.

"I know. I've read them." Harry was still avoiding her eyes. It was driving Ginny mad.

Ginny smiled lightly. "And what do you think?"

"You sound like you did when you were in school."

Ginny startled slightly. "You went to Hogwarts?"

Harry wanted to swear out loud. He'd forgotten he was no longer Harry Potter. "Yeah," he replied, wishing he could oblivate his last statement.

"Really? When?"

"I was in Hermione's year," the glamoured wizard responded.

Ginny looked confused. "I thought I knew I all the Gryffindors." She didn't seem too upset thinking about her brother, something that made Harry feel a little better.

"I was in Ravenclaw. Didn't talk much," Harry lied.

"Well at least some things haven't changed," the redhead said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Her words echoed over the table and the conversation went cold. Both turned to listen to their comrades sitting next to them.

"Percy Weasley is a great Minister of Magic!" Hermione was saying.

Ginny glanced questioningly at her date, as if to say, "Did your friend just insult my brother?" But Harry was too busy contemplating the tablecloth to notice.

"I never said he wasn't," Draco returned. "I believe I said that his new proposal about caldron restrictions isn't going to pass."

Hermione's brown hair, which had, at the beginning of the night, been held up elegantly with pins, was starting to droop and frizz a little in indignation. "Why not?"

Draco's silver-blue eyes sparkled. "Why do we need another policy telling us how thick our caldron bottoms need to be?"

"Because!" Hermione started lamely. She was spared having to come up with a good response by the arrival of their orders.

After the waiter had left and Hermione and Draco had resumed their circular argument, Ginny asked Harry, "Have you always wanted to be a healer?"

Harry looked at her hands this time as he replied: "There was a point when I wanted to be an auror."

Ginny sounded curious. "What happened?"

Harry shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth before responding quietly. "The war."

Ginny was speechless for a moment. Of all the things she'd been expecting, that was not one of them. James Evans was proving more complicated by the minute. "You fought?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead he asked a question of his own. "Do you hate Harry Potter?"

Ginny dropped her fork in surprise. Her date's voice sounded so serious and he was looking at her, really looking, for the first time all night. She cleared her throat, swallowing her veal before it was fully chewed. She coughed, willing Hermione to notice. Hermione didn't, she was too busy with Draco.

"What do you mean?" she sputtered hesitantly.

Harry looked deep into her eyes. "Harry killed your brother," he said, his voice full of barely controlled emotion that she couldn't indentify.

Ginny was quiet for a second. When she spoke, her voice was determined. "Harry Potter didn't kill Ron, Bellatrix Lestrange did. Ron knew what he was doing. I could never blame Harry." She paused before adding softly, "At least not for that."

"Blame Harry for what?" Hermione had chosen this moment to notice the more depressing side of the table.

Ginny and Harry broke eye contact almost at once, but it was Draco who responded. "For dragging us here," he mumbled under his breath. Hermione shot a warning glance at him and Harry kicked Draco soundly in the shin.

"Oi!" Draco yelped, grabbing his bruised shin tenderly and blushing lightly.

Hermione, still glaring at her date, said, "I think it's time to say goodbye." She stood up. "Ginny?"

Ginny glanced wistfully at her half-eaten veal and nodded. Hermione looked at the two wizards. "It was nice to see you, James. Draco." Hermione dragged out the last name pointedly, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that she was perfectly happy to go another decade without seeing the Slythrin.

* * *

Draco and Harry watched their dates leave in silence. As soon as Hermione's blue dress had passed the threshold, Draco shrugged and turned back to his chicken Alfredo. Harry looked at his best friend in surprise.

"How can you just eat?" he asked, his voice a couple of octaves too high.

Draco shrugged again, his mouth full. He swallowed hard and said, "I'm hungry."

Harry paused a moment and looked down at his hardly touched meal. After a second he grabbed his fork and began to eat. Almost at once he started to feel better.

Draco smiled at this partner's antics. "That went well."

Harry wiped his mouth delicately with the linen napkin. "Speak for yourself."

"Why? You and Weasley seemed to be getting along fine." Draco helped himself to Hermione's salad.

Harry shot his friend an are-you-mental look. "What were you watching?"

"You two," Draco responded. "I saw the way you were looking at her." He paused, thinking. "Or not looking. Whatever."

"And that tells you it went well? I couldn't maintain eye-contact!" Harry had dropped his fork now, the temporary contentment caused by the food disappearing as quickly as it had come.

"Yeah, what was with that? You acted like a bleeding rabbit."

Harry was silent for a few moments. He didn't know how much he wanted to tell his friend. He couldn't find the words to describe his feelings. Somehow saying a jumble of banished love and bitter guilt didn't describe it. Finally he said in a voice so quiet Draco had trouble hearing, "She looks so much like a Weasley."

Draco had to resist the erg to roll his eyes. "Why is that a bad thing?"

Harry stood up quickly, trying to escape the evitable end of the conversation, but Draco pulled him back down. "Keep talking," he commanded, helping himself to Harry's dinner.

Harry looked down. "I killed her brother," he whispered.

"I think I remember her saying that you didn't," Draco replied, his mouth full and with a hint of the old arrogance he'd had when he was younger.

"That doesn't mean anything!" Harry was practically shouting now. People were starting to look at the two men curiously.

"May we have the check, please?" Draco called to a passing waiter. Then he turned back to his best friend. "That depends on how you look at it."

Harry took a deep, not-so-calming breath. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you can be stubborn, not to mention miserable, or accept what the people who have the most right to hate you believe. Simple as that."

Harry waited until Draco had paid the bill and they'd exited the restaurant before saying angrily. "I don't care. I'm never seeing her again." He walked purposefully behind a smelly trashcan and disapparated before Draco had time to respond.

Draco rolled his eyes. "At least I tried," he mumbled before apparating away himself. At his manor, he poured himself a large glass of brandy and tried to shake the memory of a certain frizzy-haired witch out of his mind.

* * *

Hermione Granger's apartment, thirty minutes earlier:

"Who the hell is James Evans?!" Ginny shouted the moment they'd both apparated to Hermione's apartment.

Hermione shrugged off her silky blue shall and held up a bottle of wine. Ginny nodded and Hermione poured them each a large glass. "I told you. He's a healer at St. Mungo's."

Ginny's eyes flashed in frustration and she took a large sip of the red wine. "Where did you meet him?"

Hermione leaned back against her favorite armchair. "At Hogwarts."

"Then why haven't I heard of him sooner?"

"Why do you care?" Hermione deflected.

"Because!" Ginny answered meagerly. Hermione raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Because I do!"

Hermione took another sip of wine. "So you liked him?"

Ginny collapsed heavily onto the couch, kicking off her shoes in a manner that screamed here-to-stay. "I don't know him, 'Mione!"

The brunette lawyer remained impassive. "Yes, you do."

"How could I? He wouldn't even look at me!" Ginny's face was starting to turn a very unbecoming pink that clashed horribly with her bright orange hair.

"He did too," Hermione commented.

"When?"

"When you weren't looking."

Ginny huffed and changed tactics. "Why did you both glare at Draco?"

"He deserved it."

"Yeah, but later."

Hermione pretended to have to think for a second. "When?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, not convinced by her best friend's performance. "Just before we left the restaurant, you glared at Draco and James kicked him. Why?"

Hermione stood up and put her now-empty glass on the table in front of her. "You know what, Ginny? It's getting late, and I have a trial in the morning," she hinted.

The younger woman sighed as she too stood up. "You're a horrible liar, 'Mione," she said, as she located her shoes and prepared to floo to her own apartment.

"I know," Hermione responded, patting her best friend on the shoulder. "See you Monday?"

* * *

**A/N: Did anyone pick up a partial reference to a certain film? Think Reese Witherspoon and Colin Firth. Guess the movie and reference and....**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry loyal readers, it's been a long time. School and a small battle with the flu has kept me insane and busy. But chapter six is up now, so no complaints. **

* * *

Chapter Six

_Malfoy Manor, three days later_:

Ginny took a deep breath before knocking hard on the big wooden door. After begging Hermione for more information on James Evans almost none-stop over 48 hours, Ginny had finally reached the conclusion that Hermione wasn't going to tell her anything more about him. She had become so desperate, she had even tried calling in a few favors at the ministry left over from her pro-Quiddich days. Unfortunately, her pull was mostly with the magical sports section, which could do little for her predicament, and her orderly brother, the ruddy Minister of Magic, refused to answer even his personal floo without an appointment. "Bloody bureaucrat," she'd mumbled on more than one occasion.

That left her with no other option then to ask the only other person who she was sure knew about James Evans: Draco Malfoy.

The reporter counted the seconds in her head before the tall, blonde healer opened the door.

"Weasley?" Draco said, shock written clearly on his face. "What are you doing here?"

Ginny pushed her way into the manor, ignoring Draco's confusion and questions. When she reached the entrance hall, she spun around to look at the wizard. "Who is James Evans?"

Draco did a double take. "What?"

"Evans. Who is he?"

Draco sighed and mumbled something like "why me?" under his breath. "Why?"

Ginny took the offense. "I need to know. Now."

The blonde breathed out slowly, his eyes shut. "I can't tell you."

"And why not?" Ginny bristled.

"Because I made a promise," Draco almost shouted. He hated mornings, especially when screechy redheads who wanted to know more about his secretive best friend interrupted them.

"So break it," the screechy redhead ordered.

"I'm not going to do that."

Ginny really wanted to stamp her foot. She really wanted to curse the stubborn arse with her best bat-boggy hex, but she didn't. "Can you tell me anything?"

Draco thought for a moment as he pulled on his outer healer robe. "He only works with me every other day."

"Where else does he work?" Ginny tried to think if she knew any other wizarding hospitals around.

"I am _so _dead," Draco mumbled to himself. "Try St. Michael's."

Ginny arched an eyebrow. "Where is that?"

Draco sighed again, and trying not to think about what Harry would do to him if he ever found out what Draco was saying, said, "It's in Scotland. A muggle hospital. Now may I go? I have a job to get to."

Ginny, who'd been standing in his way for a while, stepped aside. "Thanks."

Draco inclined his head regally. "Don't tell him I told you."

"Of course not." A second later the woman was gone and Draco was already starting to regret opening his big mouth.

* * *

_St. Michael's, same day_:

Ginny Weasley stepped shakily off the Knight Bus, hoping, no praying, that she wouldn't ever have to use it again. Of course, she knew that she would one day, but for now the wish made the queasy feeling in her stomach a little more bearable.

She walked hesitantly up to the doors of St. Michael's hospital, holding her breath. She headed straight to the desk right in front of the entrance and hoped that she didn't look too green.

"May I help you?" The man behind the counter looked bored and mumbled the words.

"I hope so. I'm looking for a James Evans. I think he works here," Ginny replied, looking around at her surroundings curiously. She never seized to be surprised at how advanced, and yet how primitive, the muggles really were, despite how much her father and Hermione had told her. It was really amazing to think they didn't even believe magic existed.

"Yes, he's our head of cardiology," the man replied. "Would you like me to tell him you are here?"

"Don't bother, Carson. I'll show her the way."

Ginny turned around to see a sweet looking man in a gray, stripped suit smiling at her. His dirty-brown hair was starting to thin, but he hid it well. "Are you looking for James?" he asked.

Ginny blinked. "Yeah, sort of." She held out her hand. "I'm Ginny Weasley. A friend of his from school," she exaggerated.

The man shook her hand energetically. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Weasley. The name is Nick McLeod. I'm the chief oncologist here at Michael's." He waved his hand, signaling that they should get into the elevator.

Ginny followed the cheery doctor into the lift. "So, Dr. McLeod-"

"Nick, please," Nick interrupted.

"Nick, how do you know James?"

Nick's smile dimmed slightly. "I've known James since he started here almost seven –or was it six? – years ago." He giggled a little. "You should have seen him when he started. He was the strangest young resident I think I've ever seen. And the most dedicated."

Ginny filed this new information in her brain under the category, "more confusing information". "Really? How so?"

Nick's expression sobered and he glanced at the witch as if deciding if she were trustworthy. He must have decided she was, because he said, "He took the loss of his first patient hard. Kept saying he should have been able to save him. We all told him there was nothing he could have done, but…" Nick shrugged. "I think he still feels guilty

The air in the elevator was heavy as Nick's words hung in the air. "You know, your friend's the best surgeon I've ever seen."

Ginny couldn't help but smile. "Is he?"

Nick bobbed his head energetically, shaking off the melancholy of the previous subject like a dog shakes off water. "We call him Magic Fingers in the lounge. When he's not there, of course," he added quickly. He smiled broadly again at Ginny's questioning expression, anticipating her next question. "He's a bit unpredictable. Most of the other doctors are a little intimidated by him."

Ginny nodded, about to ask more, but the lift's bell dinged and Nick led the way out into the corridor. "Now," he pointed, "James' office is just down the hall on your right."

Ginny looked where he was pointing and nodded in comprehension. "Thank you, Nick."

Nick gave her yet another boyish smile. "Don't mention it." He turned back into the lift, whistling softly under his breath.

Ginny waited until the elevator's doors had closed before ducking into the nearby restroom. She looked at herself in the mirror, and deciding that she didn't want James to recognize her, cast a few glamours.

When she exited the bathroom a few minutes later her hair was no longer the classic Weasley orange, but a shiny black and her eyes were the color of a fresh pickled toad, her favorite hair/eye combination. Ginny was proud to say her transfiguration NEWT classes hadn't been wasted.

Ginny knocked softly on the office marked Dr. James Evans and waited patiently. After a moment's hesitation, she opened the door and peeked inside. It was empty. She crept quietly into the lightly furnished office, nodding at his choice in decorations. It was very modern and yet comfortingly classic. The desk was especially nice. If she'd had to guess, Ginny would have said it was made of an old oak. It reminded her of the one Professor Dumbledore had had in his office when he was headmaster. But there was something missing.

It took the redhead-turned-black a second to realize what it was. There were no pictures anywhere. In fact, no personal items whatsoever. It looked like the whole office had been plucked from a magazine. A cold shiver ran down her spine and she was about to leave and forget about the mystery that was James Evans when a piece of paper she hadn't noticed before flapped on his desk.

Ginny found herself drawn to the paper and read it quickly. "Where's the lab?" she asked aloud, after reading it a second time.

She remembered seeing a map outside of the elevator and headed to it. Ginny didn't know how long she was staring at the map before someone asked, "Do you need to find something?"

Ginny looked up to see a thin, pencil-like woman asking her a question. "Yes. Can you tell me where the lab is?"

The pencil woman pursed her lips. "The lab is for hospital personal only."

Ginny thought quickly. "I just started work today and got lost."

"It's hospital regulation to wear your coat at all times."

Ginny pulled her arms closer to her chest self-consciously. The woman was creepy! "I know. I just haven't gotten it yet."

The woman looked at her critically, but replied grudgingly, "It's down in the basement. First door on the right. Next time I want to see your coat."

"Right, of course. Thank you!" Ginny had to force herself not to run away from the pencil woman as fast as she could.

* * *

_The lab at St. Michael's, a minute later_:

Harry lifted his eye from the microscope and stretched his arms. He'd been studying the tissue sample he'd taken from the woman Draco had managed to identify as Victoria Fisch using an obscure contact he had at the ministry, for over three hours. So far the only thing he was sure about was that it was indeed some magical form of Leprosy.

"What are you doing?" someone asked, making Harry jump and reach for his wand. He only just managed to keep it in his pocket.

He turned around to see a youngish woman wearing a fitted shirt and neat slacks watching him at the door. "Who are you?" he asked, glad his voice didn't betray his surprise.

The woman ignored him and walked further into the room. "What'cha doing?"

Harry looked down at the different lab equipment surrounding him. "Research. Why? Do you need the station?" He started to gather his stuff, but the strange woman stopped him.

"No, I was just wondering. What are you researching?"

Harry thought about what he should tell her. "It's a patient of mine."

"Cool."

Harry decided that as she wasn't going to kick him out, he might as well have another crack at figuring out the strange curse. He bent over the lens again.

"What's wrong with the patient?" The woman sounded genuinely interested and Harry looked up.

"Advanced case of Leprosy," he replied.

To his surprise the woman said, "I thought you were a surgeon." Ginny wasn't sure, but she was almost positive muggle surgeons didn't do research. But then again, her father did have reputation for skewing some muggle trivia.

Harry almost smiled. "I am. This is one of my patients from my other practice."

"You have another practice?"

Harry decided he wasn't going to get any work done if the woman continued to ask so many questions. He decided the best way to get rid of her was answer. "Yeah."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?" Harry deflected distractedly. There was something familiar about this woman, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "What's your name?" he asked abruptly.

The woman hesitated. "Molly."

"Nice to-" Harry started, but stopped suddenly. He stood up straight, a look of comprehension on his face. He had the solution! "I'm sorry, I have to go." He dashed out of the lab, leaving Molly, nee Ginny, alone and completely confused.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for those of you who reviewed. And for those of you who choose to. Thanks to KatyKanada for pointing out a silly mistake. Now fixed. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thought I'd be nice and post this as well. Plus it's too short to be a stand-alone. **

* * *

Chapter Seven:

_St. Mungo's, a few minutes later_:

"Draco!" Harry nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to his partner.

Draco jumped guiltily, sure the red-faced healer was coming to hex him for telling Ginny about his other job. "Yeah?"

"I've got it!" Harry dumped his armful of vials and bottles on his desk in their office.

"Got what?" Draco asked, confused.

"The cure!" Harry replied, dashing to one of the spare caldrons in the supply room off their office. "I was in the lab at Michael's and it hit me."

"What hit you?" Draco was having a hard time following his partner.

"I think I might have figured out a way to cure Victoria Fisch!"

Suddenly it clicked. "How?" Draco asked.

"Help me brew this," Harry ordered, slamming the piece of paper that he'd used to record the cure on the table. "I think a combination of both magic and muggle should work."

"What are we going to do?" Draco asked, looking down the list at the barely-readable scrawl.

Harry didn't answer. He was too busy gathering ingredients to hear his partner's questions. "If I'm right, the potion should reverse the effects of the curse completely," he called from inside the supply room.

Three hours later, both healers were sweating. The caldron in front of them was filled with a golden-brown liquid that bubbled softly.

"Do you think it'll work?" Harry asked, trying unsuccessfully to tame his hair. The heat and steam of brewing always made it stick up.

Draco shrugged. "It should." He re-read the paper, which was now splattered with beetle juice and something Draco really didn't want to think about. "The potion's sound."

"That's good to know. When do you think we should give it to her?"

Draco thought for a moment, doing some mental calculations. "It needs to cool a little before we do, but otherwise it's ready."

Harry nodded and extinguished the fire under the caldron with a flick of his wand.

For a second, the two tired healers stared at the silky liquid. Then Draco asked, "What did you tell the other hospital?"

Harry smiled thinly. "That I had an emergency here."

Draco nodded and they fell back into silence. Another few minutes went by before Draco spoke again. "Did you think you're going to ask Weasley out again?"

Harry pretended not to hear the question and tested the temperature of the potion. "I think it's done," he said in response.

The blonde decided not to press and followed his partner and the levitating caldron out to the unconscious Victoria. "Are you ready?" Draco asked.

Harry took a deep breath. "Pray we didn't do something stupid," he replied as he lifted the woman's head and poured a spoonful of amber potion down her throat. Almost at once her breathing slowed and her heart rate dropped. "Oh bloody hell," Harry whispered after a minute's silence.

"What?" Draco almost shouted the question.

"I think we killed her," Harry replied, his voice barely audible and his face bleached. Draco was about to say that they couldn't have, when the woman gave a lurching breath and opened her eyes wide.

Harry and Draco jumped back in surprise, and though the hardened war-veterans would never have admitted it, fright. Victoria Fisch sprang forward like a woman possessed, but almost at once fell back against the pillows, her breathing and heart rate calming. She was sleeping peacefully for the first time since she'd arrived.

The two healers looked at each other in shocked silence before laughing out loud. They slapped each other on the back and congratulated themselves, dopamine replacing fearful adrenaline. Victoria Fisch would live.

* * *

_The Burrow, that night_:

While Harry and Draco were celebrating their victory with rounds of fire-whiskey and mead, Hermione Granger was at the Burrow for the bimonthly family dinner, eating Mrs. Weasley's famous cooking.

"So, Hermione. How's Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, as was her habit, as soon as everyone had sat down and started passing around the dishes.

"Busy, as usual," Hermione replied, helping herself to the sweet potatoes Fred had passed her. "It's tough having two jobs, you know."

Across the table Ginny coughed loudly, spraying Bill and George, who were sitting opposite her, with a mouthful of pumpkin juice. Everyone looked at the youngest Weasley in surprise. "Harry has two jobs?" she sputtered.

Hermione suddenly realized what she'd said. She'd forgotten that as far as the Weasley's knew, Harry Potter was just a doctor at some obscure muggle hospital in Scotland. "Didn't I tell you?" Hermione covered.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head, "No, you haven't, Dear. What is Harry's second job?"

Mr. Weasley, who'd been talking to Alicia, George's wife, about muggle washing machines, looked up, wanting to hear what Hermione had to say.

Hermione cleared her throat. "It doesn't really matter." Hermione had lost her nerve. "I promised him I wouldn't talk about it."

"So you're not going to tell us?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Hermione replied.

The table went quiet. The Weasleys knew that Hermione wouldn't ever betray Harry's trust and they respected that, no matter how much they wanted to know. After a few tense seconds, the table returned to its normal volume, the conversation forgotten.

Ginny looked at her best friend, the light dawning in her head. She suddenly understood. She understood it all.

* * *

**A/N: Minor cliffy. Not apologizing. Thanks for reviews. **


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight:

_Malfoy Manor, early the next morning_:

Draco pulled his robe tighter around his waist, wincing as the sound of a fist against wooden doors hammered on his already aching head. "Who is it?" he called through the heavy oak.

"Let me in!" an all-too-familiar voice called back.

Draco opened the door without a word and, ignoring his guest, looked around the door at his front stoop.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, watching Draco's strange antics.

"Looking for the best place to put my visiting hours sign," he replied expressionlessly.

"Why? No, never mind. Let me in," Hermione ordered, pushing the healer out of the way. "We have a problem."

"Yeah," Draco agreed, shutting the door with a sharp snap. "I'm out of hangover potion." He led the way to his kitchen where a small caldron sat on the counter surrounded by various potion ingredients.

"Why do you need a hangover potion?" Hermione started, and then shook her head to get it back on track. "I think Ginny's figured out Harry's secret."

"Wasn't that the plan? You set them up, didn't you?" Draco replied, throwing ingredients into the caldron. As soon as the words were out, the caldron blew up in a puff of smelly, black smoke.

Hermione dissipated the smog with a wave of her wand and tried hard not to laugh. "Would you like some help?" she asked seriously.

Draco growled menacingly, his eyebrows singed. Hermione took that as a yes and started preparing the potion. "What should we do?"

Draco turned to the mirror to fix his eyebrows. "About what?" he replied when they were back to their dark blonde sheen.

"About Harry's secret!" Hermione almost screeched, causing Draco to wish for the hangover potion sooner rather than later.

"Let me get this straight," Draco began, seizing the now-finished potion from Hermione's outstretched hand. "You set them up and didn't expect Weasley to find out?"

"Well, yeah!" Hermione replied loudly.

"Well, Granger, that was kind of dim."

Hermione threw her hands up in the air dramatically. "Why did I bother? I should have known you weren't going to be of any use."

Draco sputtered into his potion. "I never said I wasn't going to help. I just find it amusing, is all." His mood had lightened considerably after the first swig of _correctly_ brewed potion.

Hermione sat back down on the barstool. "Is Harry planning on seeing her again?"

"No," Draco replied calmly.

"O-kay. That's our first step," Hermione said slowly.

"Wait, what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the man's stupidity. "They are obviously meant for each other."

"How did you get that out of Weasley figuring out his secret?" Draco was totally lost now.

Hermione ignored him. "I've got it! You are going to tell Harry to meet you somewhere, say tonight at the restaurant we met at last week, around seven. Okay?"

Draco shook his head. "I won't see him today."

It was Hermione's turn to be confused. "I thought today is Mungo's."

"It was until he flooed and said they needed him," Draco explained, yawning broadly.

"So figure something out."

"Bu-" Draco started before he realized there was no point in arguing. Hermione had her prefect expression on and no one fought with the prefect face. "What are you going to do?"

Hermione didn't miss a beat. "I'm going to ask Ginny out." She stood up, ending the discussion.

Draco waited until she was almost out of the door before saying: "Shall I see you there?"

Hermione paused before answering. "I wouldn't want to miss Harry and Ginny's reunion." Draco just caught her small blush before she apparated away.

Draco waited a few seconds before heading to the fireplace in the kitchen. He had to tell Healer Gavin, the healer on the graveyard shift of the dark curses ward, that he might be a little late relieving him.

* * *

_The Law Offices of Granger and Zambini, an hour later_:

"So Alan and I are thinking of adopting," Blaise stated. He'd been talking to Hermione for over ten minutes and was absolutely sure she hadn't heard a word.

Hermione swung her chair around to face her partner, all thoughts flying out her head faster than a seeker doing a Wronskie faint. "What?"

Blaise smiled slyly. "Alan and I-"

"But you both can barely brew a pot of tea!" Hermione interrupted.

"I know. I was just making sure you were paying attention," Blaise explained with a Pip-like glint in his dark indigo eyes.

Hermione huffed and turned back to the window. "I was listening," she mumbled.

"No, you really weren't."

Hermione turned back to her partner, having tuned him out again. "You were a Slytherin!"

Blaise raised an eyebrow, not sure where this was going. "Really, Hermione, isn't a little long to hold a school grudge?"

Hermione batted her hand impatiently. "You knew Malfoy, didn't you?"

Blaise nodded. "Yeah, we were in the same year."

"And?" she asked, her tone indescribably girly and hopeful.

"And he's not my type. Too blonde and shifty." Blaise shrugged. "Though there was a time in our fifth year when I was sure he had a crush on me."

"Did he?"

"No, the girl behind me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Would you go on a date with him if he asked?"

"Nope."

"Why?" Hermione tried and failed to sound like an impartial observer.

"I like my guys brunettes."

Hermione looked up at the ceiling huffily. She could see Blaise wasn't going to of much help. "Out. I need to send something to Ginny."

Blaise tipped his non-existent hat like an American cowboy from those old westerns his boyfriend loved and swaggered out of the room. He decided he could to talk to Hermione about the case later.

* * *

**A/N: Almost done with the story. A couple more chapters and an epilogue. Thanks for the reviews and to those of you who favorited. Thanks again to KatyKanada. She caught another mistake. Also fixed. **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I just wanted to say thanks. Not only has this story been visited more times than any of my others, it has been favorited by no less than 10 people. For a small-fandom writer like me, that's huge. Thank you. Oh and this marks a momentous occasion. I have received a review from someone other than my two very loyal friends/pen-pals. Congratulations Twilight's-red-moon, you are the first reviewer I don't know. **

* * *

Chapter Nine

_St. Michael's, later the same morning_:

Before, when Ginny had stopped in at St. Mungo's, she'd managed to convince herself that she just wanted to check out his ward, but when the healer on call had told her he wasn't there, she'd decided to go to St. Michael's. Now she knew she really wanted to see him.

This time she put on her glamours outside. As soon as they were in place, Molly, nee Ginny, charged to the information desk she'd stopped at yesterday.

"Is Dr. James Evans here today?" Ginny asked, making sure to keep her voice neutral.

The girl behind the counter looked a little frightened. "Yes, but he's in surgery," she squeaked.

Ginny hid her disappointment. "When will he be out?"

"I-I don't know," the girl started, but Ginny interrupted.

"I'll wait in his office."

_

* * *

Dr. James Potter's office, a few hours later_:

"Strange, I could have sworn this was my office yesterday."

Ginny woke with a start and pushed herself off the extremely comfortable couch like she'd been hexed. "I've been waiting for you."

Harry's expression didn't change. "Why?"

Ginny cast around for a good excuse, finally landing on the first one that came to mind. "I'm doing a personality feature on you."

"I don't do interviews," Harry stated bluntly, holding the door open as a hint for her to go.

Ginny ignored it. "Nice cap."

Harry blushed lightly and pulled the bright pink, flowered surgical cap off his head. He'd forgotten he was still wearing it, and what it looked like. He'd misplaced his more manly blue one somewhere and was borrowing one from the neurology head. "Look," Harry tried again. "I'm really busy. Paperwork, you know."

"It will only take a few minutes of your time," Ginny cut in. She was scrambling to find a pen, having decided not to use a quill. She knew she had one somewhere. Ah! There it was.

"But-"

Ginny gave the war hero a look that had gotten her more interviews than half the Daily Prophet's reporters. "Please? My editor will kill me if I don't get this story. It's my one chance to get in his good graces."

Harry's resolve cracked. "You have thirty minutes. No more."

Ginny squealed excitedly and yanked out her notepad. She situated herself comfortably on the chair opposite the desk. "First, how long have you worked here?"

Harry rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, already starting to regret agreeing to such an invasion of privacy. "Going on eight years. Three as resident, five as head."

Ginny scribbled something on her pad. That would make sense. "Where did you go to school?"

"A small medical school outside of Scotland."

"Umhm," Ginny acknowledged. "University?"

Harry shifted in his seat, avoiding the question. "Scotland."

"Why cardiology?"

"I'm a sucker for bleeding hearts," Harry deadpanned.

Ginny snorted into her notes. "No, really."

Harry shrugged. "My best friend claimed oncology."

"And that is?"

Harry looked at her strangely for a second before replying, "The study of cancer."

Ginny tried not to show her embarrassment at her ignorance. Cancer was a sore subject for the wizarding world as it marked the biggest transfiguration mistake the great Merlin had ever done. Ginny thought about saying that she meant, "who is your friend", but decided just to pretend like it had never happened. "Did you do anything before deciding to be a doctor?"

"I considered a job in law enforcement."

Ginny cocked her head encouragingly. "Why didn't you?"

"I've seen too much death." Harry's tone was more serious now.

"Military? Where were you stationed?" Ginny nudged delicately.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." His eyes had become unfocused and glassy. It took a sharp rap on the door to break his reverie. "Come in!" he shouted, glad for the excuse to postpone the questions.

Nick stuck his head in, saying, "I was going to get some _real _food and-" he stopped midsentence when his eyes fell on Ginny. "Ooh, you've got company! When did you become such a lady's man, James?"

Ginny waved shyly, but Harry snapped up and stated matter-of-factly, "She's just doing an article on me."

Nick addressed the reporter. "Good luck. We've been trying to get him to crack for years."

Before Ginny could reply, Harry said, "You had a reason for interrupting?"

Nick looked at him blankly for a moment before remembering. "Food! Hungry? Either of you?"

"We're not hungry," Harry said, just as Ginny requested a chicken sandwich.

Nick smiled knowingly. "Be back in a flash with a sandwich for the lady and a Percocet for the party-pooper."

Ginny smiled and waited until the sound of Nick's tone-deaf humming had sufficiently faded into the elevator before turning back to the doctor. "So you were saying?"

Harry didn't hesitate. "I've been forgetting my manners. How rude of me to talk so much about myself and not ask anything about you." He smiled slyly.

"It's fine, really," Ginny started, but once again, Harry interrupted.

"Where did you go to school?"

Ginny decided to give him a taste of his own vagueness. "In Scotland. Now yesterday you said you had a second job. Where's that?"

"At another hospital. What paper did you say you're with?"

"My school's."

Harry's eyebrow arched slowly. "Really?"

"No."

The conversation went on like this, with Ginny trying to get Harry to slip up and confirm her theory and Harry trying just as hard not to, until Nick banged his head against the open door.

Ginny whipped around to see the pudgy oncologist struggling to support the take out. "Oi! Doc Pot, want to give an old man a hand?" Ginny smiled lightly at his comment while Harry went to help his friend.

"Here," Nick said, oblivious to Ginny's reaction to his previous sentence. "Chicken salad for you – there you go, and my favorite clam chowder for the crab." He handed Harry the soup. "And for me: a deliciously unhealthy fish and chips!" He stared greedily at his meal, heading for the couch Ginny had occupied a couple of hours ago.

Harry shot him a thanks-but-leave look and Nick stopped. "Is that the time?" he asked, looking at his watchless wrist. "I must be leaving! Have a good lunch. James, I'll talk to you later." He left the room, only to return for his lunch. "Bye!" he nodded to Ginny as he walked out the second time.

Ginny watched him shut the door before turning to look at the doctor/healer. "Why does he call you Doc Pot?"

Harry blushed. "I made the mistake of telling him my middle name."

"Let me guess, it's Potter."

Harry looked up sharply, "How did you-"

"That's it, I'm done." Ginny slapped down her sandwich in a manner that showed her irritation. "Harry, I'll remove my glamours if you'll take off yours."

Harry dropped his spoonful of clam chowder down his green scrubs in shock. Suddenly he realized why Molly had seemed so familiar. "Ginny?"

Ginny smiled and muttered the counter spell for the glamours. "I can't believe it took you so long. Now are you going to do me the honor or do I have to unspell you myself?" She waved her wand threateningly.

Harry hesitated. Did he really want her to know? Before he could change his mind, he muttered the reversal spell.

The redhead looked at the boy – no, man – she'd loved since before her first year of Hogwarts. Her eyes roamed over the emerald eyes; the raven hair that still refused to be tamed; the lightening bolt scar that had changed the course of history. It wasn't the only one there, a thin, almost invisible, hairline scar laced from his left cheekbone, just under his squared, brown glasses, to his chin. Ginny remembered the cut.

He'd been hit by sectumsepra – the cutting curse invented by the Half Blood Prince – and Ron had seen. Her youngest older brother had jumped in front of it, stopping the worst of the spell with his body. That was how he'd died. Saving the man she loved.

Harry walked out from behind his desk, emotions he'd hid behind layers of glamours for so long fighting to be free. He took a deep breath, stealing himself to do something drastic. "Ginny," he started, his voice shaking far less than his nerves, "Would you like to go out to dinner tonight?"

Ginny started to say yes, but suddenly she remembered the note Hermione had sent her earlier that morning. "Hermione asked me out for a girl's night."

Harry's face fell. Just then, Ginny starting pulling objects out of her seemingly bottomless bag, which considering her charming skills, probably was.

"What are you doing?"

Ginny looked up from what was, best case-scenario, a lemon drop with fur. "Sending Hermione a note."

"I haven't got an owl with me."

Ginny looked at him like he was nuts. She held up a pad of paper, which Harry looked at confoundedly. She rolled her eyes. "Email."

Harry nodded and looked down. For the first time that day, he noticed a rather pompous-looking envelope that he immediately recognized as Draco Malfoy's personal stationary. He cocked his head curiously and opened the note.

"Stop!" he cried a second later, startling Ginny so badly, her quill went flying.

"What?!" she shouted, trying to regain her composure.

"What time were you going to meet Hermione?"

"Seven. Why?"

Harry passed her Draco's note.

Ginny read it and looked up again, a hint of the famous Weasley look Hermione had aptly christened the "Fred and George" in her eye. "I think we've been set up."

The familiar feeling of trepidation he hadn't felt in a decade growing in his stomach, Harry asked, "And what are you planning to do about it?"

* * *

**A/N: Another small cliffy for which I feel no remorse. Now I _have_ to do homework. Bother. **


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

_Ginny Weasley's apartment, a bit before seven_:

Ginny stared out the window, not really seeing anything. She was thinking about a lot of things. But mainly Harry Potter.

On one hand, she knew she loved him. She had for as long as she could remember. But then he'd left when she needed him most.

She could partially understand his need to run – she'd felt the same way after Ron and the war – but she'd come back. She'd cleared her head and returned to the people she loved and the family who needed her. She hadn't left them in the cold beside Ron's fresh grave. But Harry had.

Could she ever forgive him for that?

She still didn't have an answer to the heavy question when she left to meet Hermione.

_

* * *

A La Carte, that night_:

Ginny's heart sank slightly when her eyes landed on Harry. The glamours were back on, hiding his dark, careworn features. She understood why, but she felt cheated somehow, like she deserved to see his real face.

The two witches stood up when Draco and Harry walked through the door, late as usual. Hermione smiled broadly.

"What were the chances we'd run into each other, here of all places?" she asked falsely, her smile too large for the occasion. Ginny had to fight back a snort of laughter, instead jumping in to say:

"James! Darling! You made it!" She pulled the unsuspecting healer/doctor into a sloppy hug and pecked him quickly on the cheek, causing Harry to blush lightly. "I'm sorry, Hermione, did I forget to tell you Jamesy-kins was coming?"

Ginny turned back to her "Jamesy-kins" with a wonderfully acted look of indignation and confusion. "I don't remember you telling me Draco was coming," she stage-whispered, louder than was absolutely necessary considering Harry was standing only a couple of feet away.

Draco shook himself out of shock, looking back and forth between the couple that had, at least to his knowledge, been two separate entities less than four-eight hours ago. "Umm, well, we wouldn't like to intrude-"

Hermione interjected, effectively shutting him off. "We'll find another place to sit." She almost dragged the baffled Draco to a private booth off out of the way. "What was that?" she whispered harshly, trying, and failing miserably, to keep her voice free of shock.

"I thought you knew!" Draco hissed back, staring accusingly at the woman across from him.

"Why would I know? Do I look the kind of person who knows everything about everyone?" Hermione spat.

Draco was saved from answering by the arrival of their waiter. "Would the lovely couple like some wine with their supper tonight?"

"We're not a couple," Hermione said, just as Draco replied, "May we see the wine list?"

The waiter raised an eyebrow, but went to retrieve the list.

As soon as he'd gotten out of earshot, Hermione rounded on the blonde again. "Do you ever think about anything other than your hair and stomach?"

Draco looked affronted. "I'm a bleedin' healer!"

"And what do you call that?" She pointed to Ginny and Harry who were sitting at their own table a few yards away.

Draco glanced at the couple. "They don't seem to need any assistance."

Hermione's face was starting to turn red and her hair threatened to come out of its elegant bun. The man was clearly not getting anything she said. "Not anymore!"

Draco looked at the witch lawyer, the truth dawning slowly. "You're not angry at me."

"Aren't I?" Hermione practically shouted, causing a nearby family to look at them curiously.

The healer lowered his voice. "You're angry because you've lost your chance to play matchmaker."

Her already red face went redder.

* * *

Across the room, Harry and Ginny were reminiscing about better times.

"Remember when Fred and George were testing that-" Ginny was laughing too hard to finish.

"And all their testers turned blue and couldn't stop singing American country music?" Harry supplied between bouts of laughter.

Ginny nodded. "Or the time when Ron tried the prototype for their pompous peppermints? He spoke in multi-syllable words for days!" Ginny exploded in another fit of giggles.

Harry, however, had stopped laughing. He avoided looking at Ginny, instead focusing on Hermione and Draco. "They don't seem to be noticing."

Ginny's smile slipped off her face faster than gravity should have allowed. She followed his eyes. Hermione and Draco were, predictably, completely oblivious to anything not involved in their argument. Ginny watched as Hermione's hair became bushier and bushier and threatened to spring out of its bun with a loud pop.

"I have an idea," she said, still facing their best friends. Suddenly she turned around and Harry felt the sharp sting that usually accompanies an abnormally hard slap. "Snap out of it!" she shouted, standing up sharply and glaring at the boy who'd changed everything and the coward he'd become.

Ginny felt better, much better, in fact. She'd released all the pent-up emotions from when he'd left her and when she'd discovered him and that he'd been lying about everything. It felt like Atlas had returned to take back the world.

Harry stood up too, his hand pressed against his stinging cheek. He didn't know whether to run and hide or stay and fight. He could feel a thousand pairs of eyes staring at him, daring him to make a move.

A moment later, he'd made his decision. In a single, fluid moment, he grabbed the glaring witch and pulled her into a single, powerful kiss.

At first Ginny tried to pull away, still not sure whether she could forgive him. Then she realized she already had and let herself fall into every girl's Hollywood dream.

* * *

Draco and Hermione stopped arguing mid-sentence when they heard the slap. Hermione made to help her friend – not sure which one yet, but willing to be flexible – but Draco grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

"Let them work it out," he ordered softly. Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped.

She had never been so close to Malfoy before, never noticed how his eyes were more blue than silver or his powerful jaw line. She stared up at him, transfixed by his pale-almost translucent skin, heart pounding, not noticing or even carrying what was happening a few yards away.

But Draco did. He saw the fiery kiss; the passion playing behind their lips and his heart ached for the courage to do that too. He glanced down at the woman in his arms. He stared deep into her bright chocolate eyes and he forgot everything.

He leaned in as if to kiss her, but Hermione pulled back. "No," she whispered. Draco heart skipped a beat. "Not yet."

Draco nodded gravely, but hope was blossoming in his chest. He could wait a little longer.

* * *

**A/N: So this is the last chapter. There is an epilogue, but I haven't decided when I'm going to post it. Probably later tonight or tomorrow. What do you think? **


	11. Epilogue

**A/N: TA-DA! The end has arrived...**

* * *

Epilogue

_The Burrow, some weeks later_:

Harry stopped just outside the door, his hand suspended above the doorknob. He looked at his girlfriend pleadingly, but Ginny just nodded encouragingly.

Harry sighed and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He opened the door; he could almost hear the muggle drum-roll as he stepped through the threshold.

The kitchen went deathly silent as soon as Harry entered. Everyone stared at him with unreadable expressions. Then someone dropped a plate and the spell was broken.

A sob rang out and Harry was nearly crushed under Molly Weasley. She pulled away, holding him at arm's length. While she examined him in silence, he did the same to her.

Mrs. Weasley had gained back the weight she'd lost in the war and was now back to the comfortable size she'd been when Harry first saw her on platform nine and three-quarters. Her hair was much grayer, but there was still the random lock of Weasley orange, and her eyes were the same in every way but one. Now there was the look of a mother who's lost her child, but there was also something else: happiness and love with worry lurking in the corners.

Harry felt a hand drop lightly on his shoulder and he turned to face a solemn Arthur, who hugged him roughly. When he let go (much too soon in Harry's opinion), Fred called out:

"Okay, who called twelve?"

Bill jumped up happily. "I did!" he shouted, much to his mother's disapproval.

Harry turned to Ginny, who was smiling broadly, asking silently what they were talking about. She leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"They bet on when you'd come home."

* * *

**A/N: So there it is. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. It is finally out of my head, thank goodness. As for a sequel, I doubt it. This seems acceptable, doesn't it? I've already gotten a comment from one of my few betas about Hermione and Draco and I was going to add that in the epilogue, but it just broke up the mood. So I'm telling you now. Hermione and Draco do get together. After that, it's up to you to decide. **

**I want to thank everyone who reviewed/favorited/alerted this story. As everyone on this site knows, few things can top the feeling of being noticed and appreciated. Thank you for noticing. And now that I've officially completed the story, I hope to get more reviews. If you have stuck with me without a comment, you know now's your time. That goes for all of you wonderful readers. Anyway, thank you. **

**Signed, **

**Nerd.**


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